


Night Visions

by GiveMeHeresy



Series: Up in Smoke [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Child Abuse, Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, Nightmares, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiveMeHeresy/pseuds/GiveMeHeresy
Summary: In a world where mages are taught they're monsters, it's no surprise Ash is plagued by paranoia regarding her magical talent. Becoming the Herald and Inquisitor hasn't helped matters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Corny writing? Check. Probably lack of understanding of the Fade and it's workings as well as how to write Dragon Age characters properly? Check. Endless shame? Check. Anyway, this is ENTIRELY self-indulgent, as everything I make is, and it's the most I've written in months so I hope it is enjoyed. This takes place a little after she's been named Inquisitor.

 

* * *

One of her worst fears is losing control. It's been that way since the incident that drove Ash away from her home, and the feeling became worse after . When she washes the blood off her face in the middle of the night by the riverside, she sometimes catches a flicker of her father's twisted, possessed face reflected by the water instead of her own countenance.  
  
Becoming an Abomination isn't precisely it. She's sure there's always a chance of that happening to a mage, but in her case she's taught herself to both physically and figuratively stare down demons like a predator does to its prey, even the ones that tower over her. It is not a demon that presents itself to her directly in her dreams, it is herself.  
  
She is terrified of herself.

And now, she has a mark on her hand with a connection to the untamed magic of the Fade, that showed itself to be painful and destructive upon her first awakening with it.  
  
The Fade greets her tonight with what is, at this point, a familiar image. One that strains her eyes and her heart with its near-blinding brilliance...in a literal sense: Ash hovers a foot or so above the ground in a large forest clearing, limbs pulled taut, and a swirling mass of fire radiating from her body that obscures most of her vision in flame. She can’t move, or feel much of anything aside from the overwhelming heat.

However, the destructive energy that envelops her body isn’t actually the most disturbing aspect of this familiar experience. What makes her ill to the point where she can almost feel her limbs tremble in the waking world is the debris that lies scattered around the clearing. Pieces of aravels and shreds of tarp, charred at the edges, are spread around the grass.

The remains of a Dalish camp.

That gets to her pretty bad, but the pattern of the trees around the clearing are familiar. Too familiar. She remembers weaving her way around them as she chased down a smaller figure, with the widest smile on her face she can recall having in her entire life. What surrounds her is the camp that held the place of home in her heart.

There are no bodies, not from what she can tell, but that is almost as much of a deeper wound as it is a relief. Her unconscious mind can hardly differ between reality and a damaging vision either made by a demon or the darker recesses of her mind and memories. _Where is everyone? Did they run away? Have I driven everyone away?_ Areina _? Keeper? Mother? Father? Where are you? Did I kill you? Did I burn you to ashes so that I can’t see you anymore?_

Ash’s eyes sting with both tears and the close exposure to the fire. Out of all of the frantic thoughts rushing through her head, the one that stands out to her the most is you killed them. You killed them. _They all burned to death because of you, screaming in pain and anger._ Her skin feels like its crawling, shifting, changing, as if something is trying to take her over. Her throat is too dry for her to speak, if she even has the ability. All she can do is let herself tear up and mourn, like the last dozen or so times she’s gone through this, and the pain hasn’t lessened by any margin.

Though, through the daze of her misled grief, something about this nightmare seems...off. Something -

A sharp pain shoots from her left hand up to her shoulder, and she involuntarily cries out. It surprises her, as this is the first time she’s been able to do anything of the sort here, let alone feel anything. Ash is able to move her head around too, to a certain extent, and she looks down to see the signature sickly green light of the Anchor pouring from her palm.

It stings like crazy, like the day at the temple where it was threatening to tear her apart. The green light emanating from it adds to the orange and yellow of the flames in a painful mixture. She finds she’s regained some measure of control over her arms as she brings the afflicted one up to the other in a panic and uses her free hand to grip her marked hand so tight it does nothing but add to the pain.

_Look at you! You’re a disaster waiting to happen._

No.

_If you haven’t happened already, that is._

**No.**

_Your family is gone. All gone. A countless number of innocent people died at the Conclave. Who do you think is to blame for that?_

No. Both of the people who served the Divine in person have verbally declared she had no part in that, as well as a number of her other newfound companions. She couldn’t have. She’s not capable of doing such a thing by any metric.

But...

...she can’t really remember can she?

_You want to return to your clan, but what will they think of you? Taking another one of their own?_

No. This can’t go on. She needs to find a way out of this. Now.

Ash squeezes her eyes shut against the pain and the bombardment of taunts. She can resist. She’s been through this before, but by the Creators, she’s exhausted. The young elven woman continues to put pressure on the mark as tears glisten on her cheeks and she struggles against an invisible binding that keeps her suspended in the air.

_Dammit. Dammit. Dammit._

Frustration builds up in her body to the point where she does feel like she’s actually going to explode. Even so, she continues to put up a fight. It’s the best she can do. It’s not as if she’s ever been given a lesson on how to properly deal with Fade torment, or if she’ll have the opportunity to do that anytime soon.

Even in her dreams, Ash is scared, hurting, and alone.

_Dammit. Please. Something, someone..!_

“Ashariel.”

Her eyes snap open and she goes still as she hears her name fall off a familiar tongue. Through the flames and the green light of the Anchor, she sees the faint outline of a tall figure walking quickly towards her, arms outstretched. A pair of slender hands break through the fire as if it is what is is, an illusion, and grasp her own.

As the newcomer does so, the panicked thoughts in her head, as well as the taunting voice, go silent. The light coming from her hand flickers out of existence, and the intense pain fades to a dull sting. She’s able to blink the tears out of her eyes, and the inferno around her begins to sputter out as well.

Her vision clears, and so does the fire. Eyes the color of a wild sea stare hard into her own.

It’s Solas.

...but of course it’s Solas.

Ash finds herself at a loss for words, as she either eases herself down out of the air or is helped down by her...visitor. She can’t say something like this has ever happened to her before, especially during a dream such as this.

She blinks several times as her bare feet press against the earth - now unscathed and bare of any debris - but the man in front of her remains the same. He is dressed in the same attire he typically dons, soft wool and the wolf’s jaw hanging around his neck.

It can’t really be him, can it? Considering how much he’s told her of his excursions in the Fade, it may very well be possible. It’s also possible that he’s merely a spirit, or a projection of herself...but in that case, why him?

Solas, if it _really_ is him, keeps eye contact with her. His brows are pressed together in a way that expresses a sense of genuine concern, in place of the cryptic mask he’s worn since they’ve first met, with the exception of a few brief glimpses of something else every once in a while.

The tension in her hands eases, and her heart is no longer beating against her chest like a stampeding animal. Ash glances around them and see that they are in the same clearing as before, but the darkness has cleared. Above, the sun shines down through the trees in gentle rays, and she thinks she hears a singing bird somewhere in the distance.

_Wow._

“Are you alright?”

His voice calls Ash back out of her thoughts again and she makes eye contact with him again. She opens her mouth and takes a breath to speak, but she has no idea what to say. The nightmare is gone, but her hands still shake, even in his grip.

She is tired.

“I...”

She is tired, and she wants to wake up, so maybe she can get some actual sleep. One idea comes to mind, and without thinking much, she decides to roll with it. Ash uses their already linked hands to tug herself forward and press her head against his shoulder in a peculiar attempt at an appreciative gesture. He has done a lot for her, after all.

“...thank you.”

Solas, either in response or a coincidence, loosens his grip on her hands significantly. A pit of regret forms in her stomach.

But that feeling too, goes away, as she swears before some force pulls her back into consciousness, she feels his cheek press against her head, and both of his hands fold delicately over the one that carries the Anchor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooh fun a continuation. There will be one more part to this I think.

* * *

 

As soon as Ash opens her eyes, she rolls out of bed and stumbles to her feet, which turns out to not be such a good idea as she almost falls flat on her ass with the colors that burst in her vision and the ringing in her ears from getting up too fast. She braces herself against the bed with an exasperated breath as she buttons up her clothes and straightens out her hair as much as she can without having to remember where she decided to toss her brush the last time she touched it. No time for that, no, not while she’s still flustered and reeling from a certain someone in Skyhold deciding to visit her dreams.

She picks her cloak up off the floor and tosses it around herself for good measure, before she flies down the steps. The crows that have made their home in the rafters have no time to greet her as she rushes past them. It’s early morning, so thankfully only a handful of Inquisition grunts are present to see her bounce across the main hall like an energetic bird rather than a dozen important guests and reverent pilgrims. She skids to a halt in front of Solas’ door and raises her fist to, but it swings open and reveals the face of man she’s looking for before she has the chance. Her mind goes blank as they make eye contact, but judging by his raised eyebrows and parted lips, he looks surprised to see her as well.

Words managed to stumble through the fog in her mind. “O-oh, Solas. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“Not at all.” He quickly shakes his head and clears his throat. “I was actually meaning to speak to you, Inquisitor. I believe…I owe you an apology.”

It _was_ him.

Solas steps back and holds the door open with one hand while he gestures for her to enter the rotunda with the other. She hobbles inside, feeling more awkward than she has ever before when coming to check in on him. The thoughts that bubble in her head are a confusing mess of a vague sense of violation for him inviting himself into such a sensitive dream and gratitude for him stepping in before she lost herself. It’s not as if she’s dealt with demons preying on that period of her life before, but it’s never an easy experience. The help was welcome, but not expected. It’s thrown her off.

Especially that affectionate gesture towards the end of it, something she didn’t expect coming from the closed off apostate, of all people. He’s been nice to her, nicer than she thought he’d be, but he doesn’t give off the impression of being an especially…warm or comforting person. Not until last night, at least. Supportive? Somewhat. It depends on the subject. Does she expect him to lend her a shoulder to cry on without hesitation? Not so much.

Solas shuts the door behind her and makes his way over to his desk. He runs its fingers across its surface, most of which books and papers cover up. His eyes are low and his shoulders are slumped, which means she’s not the only one thrown off by this.

He looks up at her again. “I know this is not the most private place to discuss such things, but I apologize for my intrusion on what seemed like a vulnerable moment.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” She tugs the cloak tighter around herself with a reassuring grin on her face. “But at the same time, I also want to thank you for snapping me out of it. Can I ask how you…found me?”

Solas’ gaze moves to his desk and he thinks for a moment. “There are many pockets in the Fade, but there all interconnected. I think it was both my proximity to you in the waking world and my particular sensitivity to such things that allowed me to hear you ‘screaming,’ so to speak.”

Her lips purse as heat rises to her cheeks. “I was screaming?”

“Not in a literal sense, no.” He shakes his head as he straightens up. The Fade is his area of expertise after all. Something familiar to him, unlike interacting with distraught women. “It is…difficult to describe in layman’s terms. Try to picture pressure and heat as intense as the emotions you were experiencing. I imagine Cole must have felt it as well, at least a little.”

 “Oh…I think I understand. I’m sorry.” Ash lowers her head as her smile fades.

She guesses that makes sense. Are her emotions really that powerful in the Fade? She hopes she hasn’t distressed Cole too much. She considers paying him a visit after this to make sure he’s doing alright…wherever he hangs out this time of day. Vivienne and Dorian may have felt it to, and some of the other mages staying around the castle, but she’s not sure if they’re as tuned to things as Solas is.

A soft half-smile spreads across his lips. “You have no need to apologize. We’re in a time of war while the Veil is scarred and spirits are restless. Such things can be difficult to avoid.”

“Right.”

Silence starts to build between them. His eyes wander to one of the papers on his desk that catches his attention, and he goes to sit down. He lights the candle with a wave of his hand as he does so, a fluid motion that makes her want to giggle for some reason. She stands there with her cloak improperly folded around her, her chin pressed against her collarbone, and her bangs hanging in her eyes as she observes him.

“You must know some tricks.”

Solas glances at her from behind the paper he holds in his hand. “Tricks?”

“You know…” She shifts her weight on her feet. “…to keep the demons away.”

He inclines his head. “…I do know of a few wards to help keep away nightmares.”

 “Really?” Ash beams and nods excitedly. “That would be great. Thank you.”

His smile returns. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

Solas looks back down to his paper but she stands there for a moment longer. Ash rocks on her bare feet against the cold stone floor and absentmindedly gazes at what he’s done so far with the murals he’s painted on the walls.

“Hey…Solas.”

He raises his head again. She can’t read any annoyance in his expression. He looks…a little relieved, actually.

“…I don’t mind you ‘intruding’ on my dreams.”

Solas’ eyebrows raise as he moves his attention off to the side.

Oh…she made it awkward. Her face blooms with heat again.

But then, he looks back at her with a smile. “I will be sure to keep that in mind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

* * *

 

Nights later, she opens her eyes to the realm of the Fade once more - not to the burning remains of a camp, but to a clear riverside at the edge of a forest, with lush grass and clear water. She wears form-fitting leathers of Dalish make that feel warm in the sun, and her braid is down from its usual place tied up on her head. She breathes in as her shoulders droop with relief. There’s nothing but a gentle breeze that disturbs the air, no trace of flame in the distance or an encroaching presence on the edge of her consciousness. Thank goodness.

 

“I hope this is better?”

 

She turns her head to see Solas standing a few feet behind her. He’s changed with the scenery as well, clad in clothing that's in a similar style to what he wears in Skyhold, but with threads of gold and ocean blue intertwined between the wool and leather. His posture is far more relaxed than any time she’s seen, and he has the ghost of a smile on his face as they make eye contact.

 

“Yes! Beyond that, it’s beautiful!” Ash beams back at him as she walks up to him, with her hands folded over her chest in delight. “None of us have really gotten the chance to take in the natural sights on our journeys, have we? Too busy fighting demons and maleficarum.”

 

Solas chuckles as he folds his hands behind him. “You may be right about that. Even I have found myself distracted, except in my dreams. That seems strange to say.”

 

Ash shrugs. “Not really. The Fade’s been my refuge from time, when it’s not toying with the things in my life I’d rather forget.”

 

His expression dims, and he makes a soft noise of acknowledgement as if he’s waiting for her to say something else. Ash’s smile vanishes as she takes a moment to look around once more, pulling her braid over her shoulder.

 

She recognizes this place. It’s faint, but the memory is there, and it’s not an unpleasant one for once. Of course, her mind must be too much of a puzzle for the Fade to not reach its hands in and pick anything it can find out.

 

“I’ve been here before,” she says aloud as she turns and faces away from Solas, “it was a long time ago, but I think my Clan camped around here for a while. My sister and I would come here as kids to play in the river on hot days. We were probably lucky the current never dragged us in.”

Beside her, Solas inclines his head. “Your sister?”

 

She lowers her own. It’s a tentative question, and she’s thankful for that. “Yes. She was my twin. Her name was Areina, and we were very close. She...was with me at the Conclave before it…”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“...thank you.” Ash smiles sadly. “She was a good person. I miss her...apart of me still blames myself for her death, even though there was nothing I could really do, was there?”

 

She trails off as she blinks rapidly, then facepalms as she turns to face him again. “By the Dread Wolf, you’re probably not here to listen to me talk about my feelings.”

 

“Actually...” Solas drops his hands from behind his back. “I do not mind. We are...friends after all, yes?”

 

“Friends, right.” Ash worries at her lip as she presses the tips of her fingers together. “Well...if you wanna hear the whole story, my mother has been dead for a long time, my father died when I was young, and my sister is dead now too. So...I’m the last of my immediate family, I guess.”

 

His voice is low, soft. “The Conclave wasn’t your doing, Ashariel.”

 

The tips of her cheeks burn, an involuntary reaction whenever he uses her actual name, and definitely inappropriate considering what she’s about to say. “My sister’s death? No, it wasn’t. My mother’s...I don’t know. But my father’s death was my fault: I’m the one who killed him.”

 

Ash isn’t sure why she’s spilling this out all of a sudden. It’s almost as if she’s at a Chantry confessional. Maybe it’s the nature of the Fade. Either way, she’s starting to feel like a total idiot for bringing up the subject of her family in the first place.

 

She looks at him. She can’t read what’s on his face, but he’s not speaking. They’ve all killed people at this point, but anything could be running through his head right now, might as well drive the point home: “I can’t remember what it was, but I made him angry. Really angry. He took me out to a secluded place in the woods to beat me, and his anger consumed him. He turned into an Abomination, and...I had no choice.”

Still, Solas does nothing but return her gaze. Ash presses her lips into a thin line and instead shifts her attention to the earth below, where their feet - inches apart - press into the dirt and grass.

 

“I’m afraid of turning into that, afraid of losing control of myself and hurting people,” she says, “that’s what my nightmare was about. That’s what you saw. I...I think I may have already done it, back when I killed him.”

 

“No.”

 

Ash raises her head. “...no?”

 

“How you view your own actions is not something for me to dictate, but I can say with certainty that you’re not comparable to any mage who would do such a thing.” His lips twitch, and his shoulders are rigid, like he’s holding himself back. “Even with the Fade’s mark on your hand and the struggles you’ve faced throughout your life, you’ve become a leader and a symbol. That proves you are not weak enough of mind to fall to the level of a megalomaniac. You are _not_ a monster.”

 

Her throat constricts as she fidgets with her braid again. She remembers the times where she’s gotten herself into a mental hole and had to repeat some variation of that to herself, but hearing it coming from someone else is a...different experience.

 

“...I...thank you.” Ash takes in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for...unloading that on you. It’s heavy stuff, but it’s always on my mind and...you saw it firsthand.”

 

Solas shakes his head. He looks more relaxed now. “No need. I am glad you told me.”

 

The only response she can give is a small smile as she threads her fingers through the holes in her braid. _Friends._

 

For some reason, it feels odd to call Solas a friend, both out loud and in her head. Technically that’s what they are. She’s considered him a source of stable ground since the beginning of this mess, with her mind filled with a storm of questions and his mind filled with the answers to most of said questions. He’s confided in her, a little, and now she’s _confided_ a lot in him.

 

She can tell he has walls up even in the fade. She can’t help but have a desire to prod them and figure out more. Sometimes what she thinks is his true self leaks through his cool, calm, and collected mask, like in the nightmare he helped pull her out of. Ash’s hands go still as she remembers his hands on her arms, then clasping her hands, and his cheek against her forehead. She looks up at him again without raising her head. He’s staring at her wordlessly, with the same indiscernible emotion in his eyes that he wore earlier.

 

Ash doesn’t know what she’s doing when she takes a hesitant step forward and wraps her arms around him in the most awkward hug she’s ever managed to give someone.

 

“I mean it. Thank you...for everything you’ve done for me.”

 

He freezes, and thoughts of regret start to shoot through her head before he rests one hand on the curve of her back, and the other over her shoulder blades. Ash closes her eyes while his breath ghosts across her neck. He smells like the forest, and books. Like comforting things.

 

Ash definitely doesn’t know what she’s doing when she raises her head and her lips brush against his cheek, other than her face and thoughts feel warm, as well as a bit dizzy, and she hasn’t been this close to someone since her adolescent years with the Dalish. _It must be the Fade._ She’s definitely the Fade, yes. It would be just her luck if this were only a dream, and this were some concoction that isn’t actually Solas. It’s alright for her to dream, isn’t it?

 

Solas turns his head so that his lips meet hers and her thoughts come to a halt. Her fingers end up laced together around the back of his neck while his clutch her like she might float away if he doesn’t hold tight enough, a feeling she shares as her heart pounds against her ribcage. The light-headed sensation she already had intensifies once she parts her lips for him and a muffled noise escapes her.

 

The impulse hits her to run her hands over his head and maybe slip one beneath his shirt, but _they’re not even supposed to be doing this in the first place and oh, by the gods, what was she thinking?_

 

Ash tugs away from him with her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide, and her face feeling hotter than a sunburn. Solas, however, doesn’t look surprised, or angry - he looks…saddened. Desperate. A crack through his mask, like he’s in pain. It’s not the reaction she expected, but it fills her with guilt nonetheless.

 

“Solas, I am...s-so sorry.” She pulls her hands away from her mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that, n-not without asking first, at least. I...I just-”

 

He cuts her off, stepping towards her and cupping her face in his hands. “Ashariel, please.”

 

The puzzling confliction in his tone of voice sends a wave of emotion over her. She isn’t sure who moves first this time but they’re kissing again, and again. It’s been long enough since anyone’s held her like this that the urge to tear up tugs at her dream-self. Solas trembles in her grasp, from either the same sort of emotion, or something else she doesn’t want to think of lest this go too far.

 

Ash breaks away from him again, but this time with a giddy grin on her face. She rests her forehead against his shoulder and he presses his face into her hair with an unsteady sigh. A giggle bubbles in her throat, made of the pure joy her brain is currently riding on, and she feels him smile in response.

 

“That was...something I didn’t expect to be doing in my dreams anytime soon.”

 

“Strange things happen in the Fade.”

 

“Evidently.”

 

Ash raises her head off his shoulder and looks him in the eye while nuzzling the tip of his nose with her own. “It’s not time to wake up yet, is it?”

 

He looks off to the side as he purses his lips. It’s amusing to see his cheeks flushed. “Not unless you want to.”

 

“Then we should go for a walk. Along the river.” She curls her arms around one of his own and clasps his hand as she tucks her head under his chin. “And maybe I can listen to you talk about yourself, since I dumped all that on you.”

 

“I suppose that’s only fair.”

 

“And...we can do this...when we’re not asleep, right?”

 

He pecks a shaved part of her head, gentle and warm. “...of course.”


End file.
